


i'm a prisoner to my addiction

by umathurwin



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, also post-inevitable-john-b-and-sarah-breakup, i can't write anything not toxic to save my life really, i'll be working on that, one of my rando ocs is from louisiana so i googled their top baby names idk, redeemed problematic fav reunites with spoiled brat sweetheart: the fic, there’s two rando ocs they don’t mean anything they’re just plot devices for my babies <3, this is post s1 and maybe even s2? idk, topper is a smug bastard but fuck it’s kinda hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26161156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/umathurwin/pseuds/umathurwin
Summary: The 3 times Topper tried to ruin Sarah’s attempts at dating and the 1 time she maybe, sort of, gave him another chance.
Relationships: Sarah Cameron & Topper, Sarah Cameron/Topper
Kudos: 4





	i'm a prisoner to my addiction

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! this took forever because i hated every ending i wrote :/ but i wanna post it anyways. they're my personal otp in the show but even i’ll admit there is some toxicity in this piece but what is a fandom without a little drama huh?? anyways enjoy this topper/sarah awkward angst fest
> 
> title is from prisoner by the weeknd, unrelated but still a great song and a beautiful duet. also this has no smut?? crazy i know but i don’t blame you if you’re bored asjghagdf

**i.**

The homecoming game was Sarah’s favorite time of the year. The air was a bit less thick than it was during the summer months, and the trees were already starting to turn orange. It was also easy to enjoy the game after she dropped cheerleading—it was just too much stress on her during every season, and whatever social clout she was getting from it wasn’t worth it anymore.

She attended the game with one of her friends—Alice, the daughter of her dad’s old work friend. Ever since Sarah broke up with John B, she figured it was time for her to go back to her Kook roots, and that included standing in packed bleachers with sweaty teenagers just to watch a game. Besides, Alice was nice enough and not _as_ bad as some of the others. She wasn’t much of a crazy partier, so Sarah didn’t feel much pressure around her. Plus she was reliable and loyal, something refreshing around Figure Eight.

“Hey, do you mind getting me a drink? A Coke is fine, or whatever they have,” Alice interrupted her thoughts, digging into her wallet for a five.

“Oh, you lose the ability to use your legs?” Sarah teased, taking the bill anyways.

“Actually, yes!” she whined, brushing her thick blonde hair out of her face. “I had cross country before school today and I’m struggling just to stand.”

Sarah shook her head, jumping out of the bleachers and down the stairs. The game was actually pretty busy, but it was hard looking back at the bleachers with the bright ass stadium lights.

The concessions stand was nearly empty since the rush of half time had already passed. In fact, the only other non-employee there was a tall boy she didn’t recognize, seemingly focused on something at the other end of the counter.

She took out her own card and tapped it on the concrete counter, checking the bottle selection and sighing in relief when she saw the red bottle. “Could I get a Coke?” The cashier nodded and fetched the drink, taking her card with her.

At this point, Sarah got nosy about the other guy. He had a great profile and had even better arms, but she couldn’t name him for the life of her. He’d also gotten himself a Coke, and some peanuts to go with it. Since when did the school sell peanuts?

He tore open the pack of nuts and dumped them straight into the bottle of Coke. After carefully replacing the cap, he rolled the bottle back and forth.

“Wow, that is painfully Southern,” Sarah commented, eyeing his nice hair and classic oversized belt. “I honestly don’t think I’ve ever see anyone do that in real life.”

He laughed, opening the bottle with the same caution he had sealing it and took a drink. “This is totally standard back home. I’m shocked y’all don’t do this. I had to bring my own peanuts.”

Sarah laughed, taking her card back with the chilled bottle from the cashier. She stepped out of the way of the forming line, closer to this mystery kid. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I know your name. I’m Sarah,” she introduced herself, putting her hand out.

“No hard feelings. I’m new,” he explained, shaking her hand. His was so calloused and totally swallowed her own, but she kept her poker face. “I’m Mason. I’m from Louisiana.”

“Explains a lot,” she hummed, squeezing the Coke bottle once she got her hand back and letting her eyes glint his way.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he raised a dark eyebrow. His smile was just too cute.

“Just saying, if you were anymore stereotypical, I’d think you rode a horse here,” she tsked.

“Actually, it was a cow,” he bantered, making them burst into laughter together.

“Oh my God, Sarah!” she heard, tearing her away from her conversation.

The absolute last person she expected to see jogging over to her was her own freakin’ ex. “Topper? What do you want?”

He paid no mind to her sour greeting. “Natalie is super wasted, like, blacking out as we speak. Can you go check on her?”

Alarm bells went off in Sarah’s head; one of her classmates was a wild card and was constantly throwing herself in harm’s way. The fact that it was Topper of all people delivering this news didn’t even faze her—the main concern in her mind was ensuring her friend was safe.

Sarah used her beverage to wave to the boy she’d just met. “I’ll catch you later, but I’ve gotta check on her. Bye!” She didn’t say anything to Topper, too focused on getting back to the bleachers.

Sarah hiked the metal stairs two at a time to reach Alice. “Have you seen Natalie?” she breathed, handing her the Coke and her money back.

“Uh, yes ma’am,” Alice responded casually. “Isn’t that her over there?” she pointed down a couple rows. Sure enough, Nat’s unmistakable dark curls were happily bobbing around her and her friends. Definitely not wasted or passed out. In fact, Alice called her name and the girl in question spun around to reveal gold face paint outlining her eyes and cheeks. She waved amicably before going back to take pictures with her friends.

“What the hell?” Sarah blurted, waving to her as well but rubbing at her temple when she faced Alice again.

“What’s wrong?” the blonde girl asked, cracking open her soda and drinking some. “Thanks for buying my drink, by the way.”

“Topper rushed over while I was talking to some new kid and told me Natalie was, like, super drunk and on her freakin’ death bed,” Sarah muttered, unable to focus on the players at this point.

“Hmm. Who were you talking to?”

Sarah lifted her shoulders. “The new kid. From the bayous or something. Cute as a button.”

Alice raised her eyebrow, closing the bottle and pointing it at her. “Oh, duh. Top is scheming.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not a psychic, but I have a feeling Topper is trying to keep you from getting laid. Maybe it’s payback for all that shit with John B. Also that time at the party he threw—”

“Okay, I get it, I have a shitty ex. I just hope this was a one-off. He couldn’t be that malicious, right?” Sarah and Alice both shrugged.

Well. She could hope.

**ii.**

Monday really kicked her in the gut. At the very end of the game, the school sent out massive emails announcing that the homecoming dance was being moved to the next Saturday. Apparently the venue had a burst pipe and needed to be repaired, much to the dismay of the girls who’d booked hair and makeup appointments.

By the time the final bell rang, Sarah was so strung out, all she wanted to do was go home and take a long ass nap. She just absentmindedly stared into her locker as people fled the building behind her. Was it _trig_ or _APUSH_ that had homework due tonight?

“Sarah?”

She spun around from her locker, not quite recognizing the voice immediately. To her surprise, it was the boy from the hoco game cutting through the already-thin crowd to reach her. “Hey, Mason!”

“So, was everything alright with your friend?” he asked, digging his hands into his pockets and leaning his shoulder on the maroon metal.

Sarah’s brows furrowed for a moment until it clicked what he was referring to—Topper’s weird ploy. “Oh, yeah! She was fine. Just loves her Svedka a little too much.” Fuck, she didn’t even know why she was covering for Topper. What they had was history, and she insisted to herself that it meant nothing. Oh yeah, it was APUSH.

Fortunately, Mason snorted and didn’t read too much into her story. “Funny, my older sister actually has the same choice beverage. She’s in college and a total mess.”

“Oh yeah? Do you party the same way?” she winked, returning her calculator to her locker and retrieving the book she needed.

“I used to, back home. I don’t really know anyone here yet, so I’ve had a lot of uneventful nights. I figured homecoming would be a good idea, but then the dance got moved. I’m hoping people are still able to have a good time afterwards, y’know?.”

Sarah blew air out through puffed cheeks. “You’re not wrong. To be honest, I may not even go to the dance, and just pregame for the after parties—”

She was cut off by an obnoxious “ _Sarah Cameron!_ ” gently echoing in the hall. She didn’t even have to turn around to know who crept up and planted a hand on the lockers behind her.

“Topper, what are you doing—?” she tried, shaking her head and facing her body towards her locker again. This wasn’t really the time to explain the nature of her and Topper’s relationship to Mason, so she prayed that she could get him to leave before things got too detailed.

“What’re y’all talking about?” the unwanted guest asked, ignoring Sarah’s peeved attitude.

“Just partying around here, y’know,” Mason shrugged, unaware of what he just set up.

Topper’s face lit up with a mixture of amusement and smugness. “Oh, is that so? This girl here is a crazy thing. I mean, you heard about her friend who was six sheets to the wind at the hoco game, right? She learned from the best.”

“Dude, I think you’re exaggerating just a little bit,” Sarah warned, looking up and trying not to lose her cool in front of Mason but also urge Topper to stop whatever he was doing.

“‘Dude’,” he mimicked, laughing softly and shaking his head. “Didn’t know you still kept my shirts,” he noted, gesturing down at the t-shirt she’d thrown on that morning.

Sarah looked down in horror, realizing that she was, in fact, wearing one of Topper’s old shirts. It was the white one that nearly ran too small on him, thus fitting fashionably oversized on her. It literally didn’t dawn on her when she was getting dressed earlier—she owns a ton of white shirts, and admittedly did keep a few of Topper’s old shirts after the breakup that she thought fit her better than him. Unfortunately, it all lined up that she wears this one goddamn shirt to school on the day Mason hits on her.

“I—well…” Any trace of an excuse fluttered away in the wind.

“Did you grab that one on your way out after my party? Or is it from another time?” he smirked, rubbing at his chin as if he was actually in deep thought. “How about this, just swing by to drop it off, and there’s no hard feelings about you running off with my clothes?”

Fuck, why was he even doing this? Sarah’s face was undoubtedly pink. “That’s enough,” she pleaded just below a whisper, frustrated at his tongue condescendingly running along his bottom teeth.

“I’m… actually gonna go,” Mason shrugged, shaking his head and adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “Later.” It was totally emotionless, and he almost seemed eager to get away from the two. Sarah could do nothing but watch him amble off.

“So why is your party the go-to?” Sarah blurted, spinning to face Topper as soon as they were alone. “I’m definitely not the first dumb bitch to get too fucked up at your house and crash there, so why can you not let _my_ night of shame go?” she huffed.

“You must think I’m some kind of man-whore. I’m actually pretty well-behaved,” he insisted, shrugging nonchalantly.

“We must have really different definitions of ‘well-behaved’,” she bit.

“God, I miss your attitude. And if you must know, I had a great time that night you were at my house. I just felt like we could probably do that more often. You enjoyed yourself, too, for the record.”

Sarah paused, shutting the locker door. “Look, that was a one-off from a while ago. I was having relationship troubles and wanted to get lit for a single night. Don’t think that’s legally binding by any means,” she sighed, digging into her bag for her car keys.

“But it just had to be at my house?” he smirked, not letting her move past him down the hall.

“It really didn’t matter!” she admitted, swinging her backpack around once she retrieved the bright red lanyard holding her keys. “I’m sorry that drinking your Grey Goose for a night made you think I’m ready to propose, but I kind of have other endeavors to deal with. Got it?”

Topper ran his tongue along his bottom teeth again. “We’ll see about that.” Then he shrugged and walked away, leaving her stunned and alone in the hall.

Sarah’s gaze flicked up to the clock. It was 3:50, meaning Alice was already out of class and headed to her own vehicle for her after-school piano lessons. Sarah scrambled for her phone, dialing her number and bolting down the hall to the parking lot.

“Alice, I think you were right. We’re gonna need to make a plan.”

**iii.**

“Do you think this will work?” Alice whispered, leaning over the wooden table to Sarah.

She stopped sipping her iced tea. “If our theory is right, then absolutely. By the way, when I said to come in disguise, I was just thinking an inconspicuous jacket. I really do admire your dedication to being incognito, though.” Sarah nodded at the literal pink stripes that had appeared in her hair overnight.

“They’re clip-ins,” she admitted, exposing the root of her hair and the metal grips holding onto them. “My mother would scalp me if I messed with the relaxing treatment I get.” The girls snickered together, stirring their virgin beverages. “So how exactly are you gonna get Topper to come to this dingy place?” Alice asked, looking around the bar they’d had to go to the Cut to find.

“I just had to think of something plausible but infuriating enough that he has to come down and put a stop to it,” Sarah shrugged. “I told everyone I was considering getting back with John B.”

“What’s that got to do with this bar?” she asked.

“While I was telling everyone about my romantic endeavors, I threw in some bullshit about a bar in the Cut that doesn’t card people. I’d rather die than be caught actually drinking here, but I needed a location attached to the story for Topper to follow. Does that make sense?”

“Actually, it does,” Alice raised an eyebrow. “But does John B know you’re using him as a little pawn in this game?”

“Well, given that he and his friends are fucking off in the Caribbean this very moment, I don’t think there’s much he can do about it. That is, if he even finds out.”

“Mm,” Alice agreed. “You really do think of everything, huh?”

“Sarah? Alice?” someone asked behind them, making the blood drain from the girls’ faces. Man, she’s got some really shitty luck.

The former slowly turned around to find her ex-boyfriend standing with his arms crossed and an expression as smug as ever.

“So,” Topper started. “Where’s John B?”

“Dicking around with his buddies in the Bahamas!” Sarah sputtered, jumping out of the booth to poke a finger in his chest. “The better question is, what are _you_ doing here if you expected John B to be here?”

Topper didn’t answer her. Instead, he raised an eyebrow at Alice. “Did you… do something to your hair?”

Sarah spun to look at her friend, who was innocently watching this go down while sipping her own strawberry lemonade. “Ali, do you mind giving us a minute?” Sarah blurted pleasantly before her friend could actually answer Topper, and she whisked herself out of the booth and away without protest.

Once alone, she spun back to him. “What the hell have you been doing? Are you _sabotaging_ my dates?” she hissed, cutting her eyes at him.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Topper admitted without an issue. He wasn’t even doing that cocky smile he had when he was playing games. He was dead serious.

It was impossible to come up with the words she wanted. “Uh, why?!” is all she could settle for without stuttering.

“Well, I want you back. That can’t happen if you’re seeing other guys, can it?”

His directness was pretty admirable, she had to admit. But she wasn’t letting him off the hook. “No!”

“Exactly,” he agreed. “Nice little trap you made for me to walk into. I should’ve known you’d never willingly agree to go to this kind of bar,” Topper hummed, looking up at the maximalist décor and subconsciously rubbing at his back pocket. “Not even for that Pogue bitch,” he added under his breath.

“That’s not what I meant,” she groaned. “Just leave me alone, dude.”

“There’s that biting nickname again. Look,” he smirked, “if you want someone to go to terrible bars with, I’m still right here.”

Well, at least there was some kind of reason behind his ploys. This was some twisted redemption scheme—at least it wasn’t just a personal vendetta against getting her laid. “Topper, you can stop all your efforts,” she seethed, trying not to just deck him right there. “Because I’ll die alone before I take you back.”

Her words cut deep, as he didn’t say anything back immediately. This was new, since he usually always had the last word. He was clearly thinking really hard about what he wanted to say. “Sarah, I’m s—”

“No! I honestly don’t want to hear it. If you wanted me back, you really picked the wrong fuckin’ way to go about it,” she finished, pushing past him and finding Alice across the bar talking to some obviously-too-old guy. “Let’s go, I took care of it,” Sarah muttered, hand tugging on her friend’s slim forearm to pull her off the barstool.

And, well, something Sarah loves about Alice is that she doesn’t ask too many questions.

**i.**

She could _not_ fall asleep.

Something about the evening had really shaken her up. It was the first confrontation she’d had with Topper, given that single night she’d partied at his house was spent too intoxicated to argue. By the time 1 AM rolled around, she wasn’t any more relaxed than she was four hours ago.

The unmistakable sound of footsteps on her roof had her sitting up straight in bed. A massive pit formed in her stomach—who could possibly be trying to enter through the second freakin’ story?

She carefully climbed out of bed, reaching for the nearest item leaning against her nightstand and approached the window. A flash of a shadow across the glass made her lift her makeshift weapon, but the face she saw had her exhaling in relief.

She lowered her arms and opened the window. “Jesus Christ, Topper!” Sarah cried, trying not to wake everyone in the house. “Are you drunk?”

Once in the room, he stood up fully and shook his head. “Stone cold sober. Is that a baton?”

Sarah looked at her hands, and sure enough, she was carrying her old twirling baton from middle school. “Yes. And if you’re sober, why the fuck are you climbing into my room through my window?” she hissed, pointing at the glass pane still swinging open.

“I know this isn’t the best way to talk to you, but I needed to do this face-to-face,” he breathed, holding his hands out to calm her down.

“Okay, so next time, send a fucking warning text,” Sarah huffed, shoving past him back to her bed. “What do you even want? I think I made it clear that I’m over your shit.”

“Just hear me out, fuck,” Topper whispered, running a hand through his lightened hair. “You were right. Back in the bar. It was really stupid of me to think stopping you from talking to other guys would get you back somehow, and that wasn’t the way to go about things. But I also never got a chance to explain myself, and I was too wasted at that party awhile back to actually talk to you.”

Sarah exhaled, pulling her legs up under her and crossing her arms. “Fine. Go ahead.”

“The night after Midsummers… I felt fucking awful. All I could think about was when I was too much on you when you weren’t ready, and how I kept pressuring you about that stupid trip to Chapel Hill, so I came over to your house and snuck into your room. I just wanted to apologize and move on, but I ended up spilling my guts to your freakin’ sister who was pretending to be you in your bed.” Topper anxiously eyed her duvet, as if Wheezie was somehow still there.

Sarah snorted, shaking her head and rubbing at the fabric. “She really is an antagonistic little shit, huh?”

“Tell me about it. _She_ was the one who convinced me you were cheating before it really happened, and I lost my cool. Then she hid in your bed, and by the time I had poured my soul out to a 13-year-old, you had already snuck out to be with John B, and the situation literally spiraled out of control from then on. Everything I tried to do to make things go back to normal made me look even fucking worse, up until the night John B fell off the tower. I swear to _God_ , Sarah, I didn’t push him. What happened was an accident, but all I saw in your eyes that night was… fear, and disgust. You thought I was some kind of monster.”

She was silent, because frankly, he wasn’t wrong. She did see him in an light of horror after the events of that night. But as she scrambles through her shaky memories of that night, was it possible that the strong winds really did make John B just fall? Could Topper be innocent?

“I mean, I turned myself into the cops for you. I put on his goddamn jacket and threw the police off your trail just so you could escape with that jackass you knew nothing about. Just to prove that I still loved you.”

“Topper, I—” she started, jarred at his admission. She stood up, but he stopped her before she could approach him.

“No, please, let me finish,” he breathed, holding his hands out and keeping her at a safe distance. “I would’ve done anything for you. When you went missing after that storm, I almost lost it. I couldn’t forgive myself for letting you go with him that night. I could barely get up in the fucking morning because I thought you died.

“But then you came back, and things with John B didn’t last, but you had already forgotten about me. I was so happy you were alive and safe, but you didn’t even blink my way. My one act of courage that I was hoping could change your mind ended up meaning nothing.”

“It didn’t mean nothing,” she blurted, tears daring to well up in her eyes. “I was so overwhelmed by what you did, but John B was calling the shots that night. I—fuck, something felt different after that night. A really big part of me wanted to go back, but it felt like it was too late. I couldn’t leave John B to the cops, especially after he was framed for my own fuckin’ family’s crimes.”

“Well, the cops are gone,” Topper reminded her. “And you got the money. John B is gone, and I’ve been here the whole time, waiting for you. I’m sorry that I’ve been acting like a total dick recently, but I was just so confused by my own emotions that I didn’t realize I was hurting you. I don’t wanna do that anymore. I just want you.”

“I love you,” Sarah said without hesitation the second he stopped long enough.

Topper froze. “Don’t… don’t just say that because you think that’s what I want to hear. I’m not trying to pressure you into anything.”

“I know,” she reassured, reaching up to gently rub at his cheek. He needed to shave, but the feeling of his warm skin felt so nostalgic. “I mean it. I think you really care about me, but you just have a hard way of showing it.”

He smiled bashfully, almost avoiding looking at her. “Tell me what I can do to go back to normal.”

She didn’t tell him, though, instead standing up on her tip toes and kissing him. He was quite responsive, holding her waist and the back of her neck without thinking. They both deepened the kiss automatically, but she pulled away first. “Look, it’s late, and I don’t wanna wake anyone up. But… really. I love you. We can talk about this in the morning, okay?”

He smiled, nodding and kissing at her forehead delicately. “Of course, baby. Whatever you say. I love you, too.”

Sarah held the window open for him, watching him climb out and down the side of the house. Once she saw his car drive off their property, she re-latched the window and flopped onto her bed.

Was it too late to contact Alice?


End file.
